


Take it or Leave it

by rachanlv



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Porn, First Time, Fushimi being a little shit, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Reisi loves it though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachanlv/pseuds/rachanlv
Summary: -I believe I have nothing that a King would want, thus the question--How bold of you to assume knowledge of your King’s wishes-orReisi wants Fushimi and Fushimi just can't seem to understand why. They fuck anyway.





	Take it or Leave it

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what you get after stumbling upon a ReiSaru doujin NOH (Non-Office Hour) and realize that 'daaaaaaamn son, they so good together'. 
> 
> I own a huge thank you to my beta, it's all thanks to her that this got posted in the first place ♥

_He didn't mind._

He _was_ his favorite, it was something he _knew_. There was no official announcement, per se, but people around Scepter 4 could feel it to be so. Fushimi was not going to try to convince them otherwise, so be it. He had no interest in playing the favoritism card anytime soon either or, quite frankly, ever. He did not need any special treatment, or any benefits or whatsoever. If one day they should fall in his direction, fine, but never would he ever ask for anything of the sort.

So, when he felt the warm tingle of someone's breath against his ear, a small shiver runs down his spine. His training had him immediately turned to face the intruder – somebody was feeling daring to sneak up on him like that.

 

Munakata Reisi. The King. At point blank.

 

Fushimi blinked rapidly a few times, maybe the late hours, too many reports, and a shitload of other work, were finally getting the best of him. Perhaps he was seeing things and all he needed was to blink and the face before him would disappear. It did not.

 

“Did I startle you?” The voice was calm, just above a whisper.

_That's one way of putting it,_ Fushimi thought but opted not to say.

“Apologies,” a small pause, before continuing in the same manner, “Your report is due tomorrow, finish it in the morning.”

 

Fushimi had to shift in his chair to give way to his Captain, and with a swift motion of finality the King closed the file shut. The heavy thud of paper against wooden desk almost sounded deafening in the still-quiet room. Neither of them moved. Something was scraping at the back of Fushimi's mind and warning him in a small voice that maybe - _maybe_ \- he should bail. But somehow, he found himself looking up at his King instead, studying his perfect face. The King looked back, his eyes weighing Fushimi down and realization slowly kicked in – it was an opening. _Take it or leave it._ Fushimi could pinpoint the exact moment when he caught his Captain's gaze trailing down and stopping on his lips.

His resolve only wavered for the longest moment, purple eyes fixated as if in a daze- that look alone made Fushimi's mouth dry. He licked his lips, a quick and barely noticeable movement of tongue against skin that would have been left unremarked on any other occasion, but not _now_. He could have sworn that he heard his King's breath hitch, eyes becoming more focused on the desired goal, tension filling his muscles – the King was prepared to attack, like a predator ready to pounce at his prey. Fushimi felt glued to the chair and every single muscle in his body rejected the idea of moving, he wanted to see the events unfold, but he stepped over himself and rose up in the most composed manner he could possibly manage. He looked his King square in the eye -purple meeting blue- nearly chest to chest, Fushimi relished the fraction of a second of his Captain being taken aback, before excusing himself and gracefully turning on his heel and taking his leave. As he closed the door behind him, he could not help but to smile, a slight curve of lips, as his steps echoed through the halls in the night.

Fushimi Saruhiko was no one’s prey.

 

_He liked it._

It was a familiar pattern by now. The way they looked at each other from across the room, the way they would meet in the suddenly empty hallway only to brush past each other, with shoulders barely touching, or the way Munakata would leave a ghostly light touch on his shoulder before turning his attention to Awashima. All of it. The physical contact was set to the minimum, but Fushimi could feel the sparks of electricity heavy in the air between them. He'd bet anything that he was not the only one feeling them, though.

 

_Take it or leave it._

 

Something in his mind clicked one day and he decided to _take it,_ grab it by the hand. Literally. As the King passed him down the stairs at the main hall, Fushimi reached out and grabbed the fabric of his sleeve. The King came to a full stop. The movement of the grand clock resonated with an echoing _tick-tock_ across the rich marble of the foyer. The King turned slightly to look at Fushimi's hand on his coat – a split moment – before fully facing him with an eyebrow arched in question. Fushimi, on the other hand, just shoved the small voice yelling at him to stop to the furthest corner of his mind, and found his own.

 

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” was the simple answer, spoken calmly but with notes of unmistakable curiosity.

“What is it that you want from me?”

 

The bold question made Munakata’s eyebrows rose up in surprise, but after a moment he regained his composure and put on the politest smile he could, as expected of a King. He stepped up towards Fushimi – all regal grace even in the simplest movements - pushing him back to the wall. They were now standing inappropriately close; people _would_ talk if they were to see.

 

“What is it that you _think_ I want from you?”

Fushimi fought the urge to click his tongue at a reply like that, cryptic as shit- both annoying and intriguing.

“I believe I have nothing that a King would want, thus the question.”

“How bold of you to assume knowledge of your King’s wishes,” His hand reached up, fingers brushing the stray strand of black hair away from Fushimi’s face and tucking it behind his ear. Fushimi just watched him, unmoving, and refused to accept the thought that the gesture felt... nice.

 

Munakata’s hand remained where it was, resting lightly against his pale cheek and Fushimi was torn between pulling away and leaning into the touch, frustration was slowly building up, or was it anticipation? _What the hell?_ Fushimi thought, of all the things he hated – _waiting_ – was somewhere at the top of the list, along with indecisiveness and coyness. But taking a look at his King again he came to realize that that was not the case, he had made up his mind long ago and here they were, his eyes searching Fushimi's face for _permission_. He did click his tongue then, because his King asking for permission was almost absurd.

Not quite sure whether to encourage or turn down the advance, he simply placed his hand over Munakata's own. Reisi just smiled, a small pull at the corner of his mouth, before leaning down and stopping in a breath away from Fushimi – lips almost touching, _almost_.

The howl of the siren startled them both back to reality and before long other members of Scepter 4 were all over and the spell broke – they had a job to do.

 

◇◇◇

 

“This is bullshit-“ Fushimi muttered angrily, before cutting his sentence short with a pained hiss. That stitched up wound on his side was hurting something fierce; he couldn’t even dress himself properly. He glared down and saw little red dots smearing his white shirt. Irritated, he pulled the shirt off completely and threw it on the hospital bed.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose and putting his glasses back on, Fushimi looked at his mirror image again: small bruises here and there, but amidst the insignificant ones laid the meanest one hidden behind layers of bandages that were now died crimson, the wound must have opened up. He scowled at the bandages, wanting to tear them off, but just in the nick of the time, there was a knock on the door and an elderly nurse entered with King in tow.

Her eyes grew wide with concern the moment she took sight of Fushimi standing up and blood on his side; she rushed to him immediately. Almost forcefully moving him back to the bed, she began to undo the bandages hurriedly, yet gently. There were no stitches opening up, just too much pressure on the wound with all the movement and uncalled for action. She masterfully cleaned and sanitized the wound, before carefully wrapping Fushimi’s torso in new gauze. Before taking her leave, she scolded him good-heartedly and with a light bow to the King, left the room.

Munakata only moved when he no longer heard anything from behind the closed door. In a couple of long steps, he crossed the room, landed on the side of the bed, placed his hand securely on Fushimi's nape and before the man before him could utter a word – kissed him.

Fushimi froze, his entire mind went into the emergency shut down to process everything. From his King's worried face when he practically dashed to his side, to the warm touch of lips against his own that although were unmoving, were a presence so tender it made his heart stutter and skip a beat. He came to his senses when the pressure against his mouth began to disappear, Munakata was about to pull away. _Oh, hell no_ was the only thought racing through Fushimi's head as he leaned in and muttered “Get back here” into the kiss and wrapped an arm around his King’s neck, pulling Munakata down. With a half-sigh, half-laugh of relief the King obliged, easily being led to shifting his position. Their lips moved in unison, with barely any time to catch even the smallest breath and somewhere between all of it Fushimi slowed and traced his tongue over his King's lower lip, almost lazily, testing and tasting.

He looked up and was struck down to the core by the blown pupils staring back at him – purple almost fully lost in black, a clear-cut signal of _want_ and _danger_. Fushimi loved danger, so when he did it again, Munakata reciprocated in full, the kiss was more like a bite, deep and fast and messy. _Finally,_ was Fushimi's thought, as he melted into the touch, hands finding purchase on his King, fingers deep in the fabric of his uniform, but as he moved to wrap his arms around him, he had to break the kiss with a pained groan. He immediately grabbed his bandaged side and when he felt Munakata's hand on his and heard an “Easy there, easy” whispered softly, he kind of wanted to punch the King, because _damn it,_ the touch and care felt so comforting and almost… _loving_.

 

◇◇◇

 

It has been two weeks since that injury, Fushimi is getting better with each passing day but he knows it has almost nothing to do with the meds. It had been just two weeks and they were _brutal_. Stolen kisses here and there, fast and demanding; with moments of him being pushed against the wall, with his King pinning him down and that gorgeous mouth roaming freely, leaving burning kisses anywhere his lips could reach. Pulling the crisp white collar of Fushimi's shirt down and tasting the skin there, teeth and tongue against his neck, marking every inch of skin up to his chin, and finally chasing his lips with even more fervent kisses that left both of them breathless and lightheaded.

Fushimi loved the rush, the adrenaline pumping in his veins whenever he felt Munakata's breath on the back of his neck, his lips and teeth sinking into the flesh moments later, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He would respond by grabbing his King by the coat and pulling him flush against his back, feeling immensely smug when he felt that his King's hard.

With such pleasure, so mind-blowing it was easier to erase any thoughts that might be forming in his brain, because when his mouth is not on his King’s, he _thinks_ and tries to find any sort of answer to _what the actual hell_? What were they doing? _Why_ were they doing this? Why would the Blue King even seek him out day after day, kiss after kiss and hold him close like he just couldn’t get enough? He had no answers for any of these questions and he hated it. Fushimi had nothing that a King would want.

 

But yet again he is proven wrong, as they sit in Munakata's office across from each other, mulling over cases. Munakata’s hand found Fushimi's and he kisses the pale knuckles almost absentmindedly, eyes still trailing through the numerous papers. Fushimi, in turn, is so taken aback by the tenderness that he pulls his hand away and clicks his tongue, failing miserably to suppress the blush spreading across his face.

 

“What are you doing?”  he manages, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What, exactly, are you referring to?” The King grins at him with a familiar smile and Fushimi knows that he’s in the mood to tease, albeit good-naturedly.

But Fushimi is in no mood to play this game, so he cuts straight to the chase, “Enough with this cryptic shit, alright?”

“Alright,” Munakata's voice changes and the entire atmosphere in the room shifts, “I suppose you still want to know why I, the Blue King, have laid my eyes on you, of all people?”

 

Fushimi chooses not to answer, just looks him dead in the eye, waiting patiently for him to continue. He does not trust himself to speak.

 

“As much as I would prefer to indulge you with the answer,” he rises up from his chair and walks over to the window, “I'm afraid that I can't”

“The hell?” Fushimi sprung up to his feet, marched to Munakata's side and grabbed a fistful around fabric of his collar, “This is insane, and you know that, don't you? You are the Commander of Scepter 4, _you are_ _a King_ , for fuck's sake, so why would you-?”

He was cut off by Munakata's hand grabbing his jacket in turn, almost mirroring his actions, “You really think that I don't realize how insane this is? Do you _really_ think that I don't know just how much I'm overstepping any decent boundaries with you?”

“So stop this then,” Fushimi spat out, “Forget it ever happened.”

Munakata's grip tightened, eyes locked with Fushimi, gaze unwavering, “I don't know how; are you satisfied now with hearing the answer? I don't understand it; It's infuriating to not understand my own mind and not be able to keep myself in check whenever I'm around you.”

Fushimi’s eyes grew wide, he was about to say something but was interrupted, “Do you have any idea what’s like, when I am obliged to carry out important tasks and take care of the problems that our government has failed to solve; My head should be on straight but _it is not_ because my thoughts are reduced to a mess, whenever _you_ come into view.”

“I-“ Fushimi began, but the words died somewhere in his throat.

“Shut it,” Munakata said sharpy, taking a step forward and pushing Fushimi back and back until he bumped his thighs into a table, his King looming over him, “Do you know what's it like to wake up every morning at the crack of the dawn chasing away the thoughts of you? What's it like to kiss you, hold you and then go back to solitary nights still tasting you on my lips?”

 

Munakata placed his hands at both sides of Fushimi’s thighs with a loud thud, leaning in, eyes dark and dangerous. Fushimi, in turn, should have felt cornered, trapped even, but there was that unexplainable heat spreading through his body, melting through his core and slowly reaching his limbs like honey dripping down. He should say something, but he wanted to hear more of Munakata's voice, his _true_ voice. As if on cue, Reisi went on, “Sometimes I think about quitting you, but then my hands reach out of their own volition and pull you in; you try to seem disinterested, but yet you always seem to say 'yes', with your eyes and touch and soft moans whenever I do this- “

He reached down and grazed his teeth against the delicate skin under Fushimi's jaw, making him gasp out those delicious sounds, “- and I know that no matter how much I'd try to,- “ he caught Fushimi's earlobe between his teeth and bit down slightly, “- I could _never_ resist you.”

Fushimi had to fight the urge to actually purr, because _yes_ and _more_ , he could listen to these confessions all day, nothing beat hearing just how much he was wanted. After another small bite, Fushimi spread his legs, giving his King more room to step closer and share some of his heat. He gladly took the offered position and immediately wrapped his hands around Fushimi’s smaller frame.

“So tell me now, how am I to stop?” He traced delicate butterfly kisses down Fushimi’s cheek, his jaw, down to his Adam apple.

“I’ll kill you if you dare stop now,” Fushimi tried his best to sound snarky, but he knew he failed when his eyes fluttered closed, hands roaming the broad shoulders until finally stopping on Reisi’s nape, fingers playing with the silky hairs there. A little tug on them came with the reward of a low _mmhm_ against his neck, Munakata's voice vibrating against his skin sending shivers all over. Fushimi reached out for his King’s hand and pulled it up, so that his fingers brushed over his lips. He only waited a moment before he began sucking on them, licking them all over and in the spaces between them. Munakata’s whole body _shuddered_ , as his eyes became fixated on the obscene movements of Fushimi’s tongue and lips; something was threatening to escape from within him, something dark and nothing like the collected person he was – the person _he should be._ He _must_ be, or heaven help the man in front of him, he would _tear him apart_. With each lick of Fushimi’s tongue the King’s self-control was crumbling, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to reign himself in.

Fushimi was melting under that feral gaze, the heat seemed to be scorching his insides from within, spreading like wildfire – he wanted him- the need was bone deep. He needed Reisi to touch his skin and burn along with him, he wanted to set Munakata ablaze. Swiftly he dragged his King’s other hand down and pressed the palm flush against his strained pants – the heat of his touch almost searing through the fabric, it seemed. He moaned around the fingers in his mouth, and looked up only to find his King barely keeping himself in check, eyes glazed over and his chest heaving up and down.

It was too much. Every last strand of control snapped and he shed the confines of being a King, of being collected and calm, it was just Munakata Reisi now – a mere human, who needed to touch, to feel, and he could think of nothing other than the man before him. All hell broke loose inside him as he let out a low groan and pushed his fingers between the parted lips, inhaling sharply through his nose as Fushimi welcomed them eagerly. He removed them only to replace with his mouth, lips moving against lips as if in a frenzy, kisses messy and sloppy and _so good_.

His apt fingers moved, tracing the outline of Fushimi's erection through the fabric of his pants and relished the intoxicating sound of him moaning into the kiss – he would never get enough. Nothing would ever be enough, he wanted to get drunk off his lips and skin even if it meant never being sober again. His other hand dragged along Fushimi's thigh, sneaked behind his back and dived beneath his waistband, fingers greedily sinking into the flesh of his ass. The sound Fushimi made against his mouth was so _erotic_ , he couldn't help but to do it again and then move his hand slightly downward and tease the tight ring of muscles with his finger, barely noticeable pressure.

The pleasure shot through his spine with such intensity he couldn't suppress the whole-body tremor. He wasn't sure which way to lean, forward to the hot palm rubbing his covered cock or back to the fingers teasing him. So instead of choosing between the two, Fushimi chose a whole different approach. Pulling Munakata's hands away was a Herculean effort in itself, breaking the kiss was yet another one – his whole body protesting the sudden lack of contact immensely. His King was about to object but stopped breathing all together when Fushimi just lay back, stretching out on his back and began undoing his belt and fly. He pulled both his pants and underwear down in one go, lifting his hips up to remove the clothes completely. With slightly trembling fingers he unbuttoned his vest and began undoing his shirt.

Munakata's throat went dry. Fushimi was lying on his desk almost naked, with one leg bent at the knee, giving a perfect view of his _everything_. Fushimi – with his perfect skin, marked with scars of old was a sight to behold – but his eyes darted down, to his hard cock laying heavy against his stomach. Munakata had barely any self-restraint left, not when Fushimi finally undid the last button of his shirt and pushed it down, revealing the pale shoulders and neck – a blank canvas for him to leave his marks – he wanted to, badly.

Fushimi reached over and took his hands by the wrists, guiding them until they touched his sides, then sliding them down to brush over his prominent hipbones and with that Munakata's restraint snapped, his own cock pressed so painfully hard against his fly, he had to seek release one way or another.

He did not need any further guidance, kneeling before Fushimi and taking him in his mouth in one swift motion. Fushimi sprung up onto his elbows, reached out in a weak attempt to protest, but Munakata batted his hands away and looked up – it would have been better if he had not – the sight that opened up before him made his blood rush; The scorching hot _want_ pumping through his veins at dangerous levels that made him dizzy. Fushimi was looking back at him, with eyes hazed over with lust, glasses slightly askew, his delicious lips parted as he moaned and desperately tries to find the words to object, but they die out as another low moan wins and stumbles off his lips.

This time it’s Munakata who groans around the cock in his mouth because he felt like exploding, all his senses reaching a critical degree– it was all too much. After one long lick from the tip to the base he went lower, tongue leaving wet traces in their wake, until he hooked both of Fushimi’s legs up and spread them wide, allowing him to reach the desired destination. He licked the delicate rim of muscles vigorously, letting his eyes drop closed as Fushimi's hot breaths and moans filled his ears. One lap of his tongue, then another and the stunning warmth welcomed his finger with such ease he had to fight the urge to insert more in accompaniment, already picturing how good it would feel.

Fushimi had imagined that it would be good, but not _this good,_ this feeling should not be so gratifying. He couldn't help his legs falling further apart to allow the sensation reach him in full. Munakata took it as an invitation and inserted another finger, slow and easy, even though every nerve of his body screamed at him to hurry up, to reach over and take, because _idiot, you’re going to combust,_ but at the same time he wanted it to last, to imprint Fushimi- no, _Saruhiko –_ to his mind.

In and out, the sensation of heat around his fingers was bliss and as he shifted his position to get a better view of the glorious sight, Fushimi caught his mouth in a kiss that was so _fervent_ , lips and tongue and teeth, he nearly lost his balance. “Stop looking and do it already” was whispered in-between kisses and the King had to oblige.

 

A sharp intake of breath was shared between the two of them, because neither could properly process the _emotion_ and _sensation_ they both felt. Fushimi felt his mind filling with white noise, the feeling of being stretched was both wonderful and painful, so he chose to ignore the pain and chase the pleasure. He reached all the way behind his King, sank his hands into Munakata’s still covered ass and pushed him _further_ and _deeper_. Reisi could only groan and shut his eyes in response, his voice low and sensual, as he sank deeper, now fully inside.

“Move,” was a breathless command, and as he did everything finally fell into place. The rhythm was slow and steady at first, taking each other in, testing the new grounds and limits. But they were both impatient, so very soon both became more daring and demanding, _more_ and _yes_ and _harder_. Skin against skin, mouth against mouth, everything was becoming too ecstatic too fast and before long the tidal wave of pleasure swallowed them both.

His ears were ringing and he could barely regain any focus. They were breathless and spent. Munakata’s weight was suddenly crushing him, but he felt too boneless to move him away. He wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to move him away. He just carded his fingers in his King’s hair and when the other responded in a sweet, long kiss, Fushimi felt a warm pang in his chest tugging at his feelings. _Damn you_ he muttered to himself but _did_ lean into the kiss nevertheless.

 

◇◇◇

 

In all honesty, they were quite a pair. They were both assholes, _glorious assholes_ , at that.

 

Two months in and Fushimi thought that their- whatever the hell it is- should settle down a bit, the attraction and feelings should subside, that's how it all worked, right? He hated when he was wrong, but he got a bit tired of lying to himself, pretending that he didn’t like what was going on between him and Munakata. It was... nice. Annoying to a certain extent, but still nice.

 

“You’re a dick,” Fushimi said, irritation could clearly be heard in his voice.

“ _Rude_ ,” Munakata tried to sound offended, but the smirk, (Fushimi could swear he was smirking) along with hands tracing paths along his sides and finding home on his hips were a dead give-away. He was standing behind Fushimi and holding him in a tight grip, breathing down his nape. Reisi’s lips were dragging teasingly slow against his neck. Fushimi cursed under his breath as his cock jumped up in interest just from that. 

“I was working on this report all night,” he groaned and bit his lip, as Munakata's hand rubbed the front of his pants, “Just let me do my job, for god's sake.”

“I haven't seen you in days,” Another slow drag of tongue against skin, made Fushimi's eyes flutter closed, “I’ve missed you, Saruhiko.”

Fushimi's eyes snapped open and he turned around to face his King, irritation clearly reading from his features, “I told you, don't call me by name. I hate it.”

“Really? That's not what I recall when we last-“ Fushimi just pressed his hand over his mouth, shutting him up.

“I hate you so much when you’re like this,” he could feel Munakata smiling against his palm and he just rolled his eyes before letting him go.

 

◇◇◇

 

Walking out of the window sounded like a plan. Or stabbing someone in the room and so he could be taken _away from here,_ even if it meant into custody was appealing, because he felt like he would actually die from boredom. Why Munakata insisted on dragging Fushimi along to these pompous gatherings of _high society_ remained a mystery. He understood why Munakata Reisi, the Captain of Scepter 4, had to attend these but why did he, just _why_?

He slumped against nearby a wall and took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose, appreciating a moment of not seeing the stuck-up asses around him. Reluctantly, he put them back on and looked around, eyes searching for the familiar frame of his King. He found him in a moment, he _was_ standing out among the crowd – and he was the most handsome person there. _Wait, what,_ Fushimi quickly chased away the thought because now was not the time. Or was it? Something mischievous uncorked in his bored mind as he reached for his pocket and fished out his PDA.

Munakata was familiar with the environment around him, knew how to be polite and uncompromising at the same time to achieve his goals. He knew how the cogs of this society worked and he was feeling confident in what he was doing and what he was talking about. He allowed himself quick sliding glances at Fushimi from time to time. The idea of his mere _presence_ was warm and comforting, although Fushimi would probably try to stab him if he knew. He was pulled out of listening a speech by the Secretary of Defence by the buzz of his PDA; he quickly glanced over and saw that it was from Fushimi.

 

_From: Fushimi_

_Subj.: Urgent_

_Bored out of my mind. Why won’t you skip the lecture and come fuck me senseless instead?_

 

Munakata had to reread it twice to make sure he was not just imagining things. He lifted his eyes from the screen and found Fushimi staring right back at him from across the room. Munakata had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat and wet his lips, because Fushimi had a way of turning him on so fast, it was unthinkable. He chose not to answer though, just looked at him with the strictest look he could muster and resumed listening to the speech.

Fushimi took that as a challenge, the game was on.

 

_To: Captain_

_Subj.: Is that a no?_

_Can you imagine: fucking me on one of these grand tables, right now? I would take you all in and moan your name over and over as your cock slides in and out of me. Don’t you want to?_

 

_Alright, that backfired_ Fushimi could feel warmth pulling at the bottom of his stomach, delicious heat spreading in his chest as he pressed ‘send’.

Reisi’s PDA came to life again and he wanted to ignore it, but his hand reached for it of its own accord it seemed. He read the message, squished the cold metal in his hand and shut his eyes, because looking at Fushimi now would result in him dragging the man back to their car and doing everything that was written there to him, once and then _some more._

 

_To: Fushimi_

_Subj.:_ _(none)_

_Bored or not, **behave**. _

 

He pushed the 'send' button and turned his attention back to the matter of military strategy and whatever the hell the Secretary was talking about; he could barely focus on the subject now.

Fushimi’s eyebrow arched in disbelief as he read the reply and familiar feeling of defiance came alive within him.

 

_To: Captain_

_Subj.: (none)_

_Or what?_

 

Fushimi knew that Munakata got the message, but he chose not to read it, showing tremendous willpower because, god knows, he wanted to.

The speech was over and people began to mingle again, forming small groups to discuss of the matter mentioned. Another buzz from Rei’s PDA and he apologized to the collocutors before taking a look at the screen.

 

_From: Fushimi_

_Subj.: oh well_

_Since you’re not interested in doing me tonight, guess I’d go home and do it myself-_ Munakata’s hand shook, he didn’t finish reading and already his mind began flooding with images of Fushimi pumping his own cock, all worked up and such a hot mess _goddamit-_

_I will be thinking about you fucking me though, Reisi._

 

With that his eyes shot up and instantly found Fushimi who looked back and mouthed ‘Reisi’, before smiling in the most sadistically seductive way, before switching off his PDA and turning to leave. Munakata had never felt such _need_ in his life; he could barely focus on his surroundings as he moved through the room in pursuit of the little devil.

_Yeees,_ was Munakata’s low groan against Fushimi’s neck, as he sat him down his cock, the heat and delicious pressure around him was nothing short of grand. Fushimi sank his teeth in his King’s shoulder, his hands finding purchase on his back- the stretch was _so good_ he wanted to hate himself when he enjoyed it this much but _god,_ he loved it too much to care.

 

They fucked gloriously that night, no restraints and second thoughts of how or why.

 

◇◇◇

 

It was one of those nights when sleep wouldn’t come to him. The crack of the dawn chased away the dark, rays of warm light peering shyly through the curtains of the bedroom. He stared at the ceiling for almost half-hour and with a defeated sigh sat up on the bed. He looked over at the other side and took a long look at Munakata’s sleeping face. He reached over and brushed his eyebrow gently with his thumb, taking in his features and the calming rise and fall of his chest.

They were lovers. Huh. That posed a problem. He didn’t want to get attached to anyone again, because once you did you got screwed over and that’s that. It would be so much easier to surround himself with nothingness and just go through the motions, but it was a little too late for that now. Sometimes he wished that all this would just be about sex with no emotional underside, because he’s so _bad_ at emotions. His hand absentmindedly reached for the burned tattoo on his chest. It’s an old memory, and he can touch it now with no bitterness, no remorse. He got off the bed quietly, he didn’t want to wake Munakata so ungodly early, and set his course to the kitchen. He didn’t reach it though, he stopped at the hallway to look in the mirror, studying the burned flesh as he did many times before, but now it was... different.

With no one but himself looking back, his lips arched in a bittersweet smile and he could truly admit that he had loved Misaki. Loving him was black and white, when it was good it was bliss, when things got bad it was a nightmare; there was no in-between. He wondered if they both were less stubborn would they have... no, not likely. His gaze moved to the other marks on his neck and chest left by his King, one in particular caught his attention – a bluish bruise from a bite, right below his clavicle that was almost mirroring the tattoo. He huffed out a humourless laugh at the resemblance – old and new love. _What a load of crap,_ he muttered under his breath and regretted the whole self-analysis; he clicked his tongue and returned to bed.

 

Fushimi lingered at the foot of the bed, though, his gaze sliding over Munakata’s face and neck, down over his chest and although the rest was covered by the sheets he knew what was hidden there by memory. He hesitated just for a fraction of a second before curiously brushing his hand over the place where Munakata’s dick was. He was amazed just how fast it began to harden beneath his touch and that was a turn on for him too, apparently. Munakata was still sleeping and it gave everything a new edge- he was in Fushimi’s hands. So he snuck under the covers, readjusted his position and licked the head languidly, before sucking on it. Munakata’s whole body trembled, but there was no further movement. Fushimi found it all weirdly hot and allowed himself to indulge the thick flesh against his tongue, before lowering his head and taking him in.

Munakata dragged his eyes open, his whole body shuddering with pleasure, every nerve standing on its end. He couldn’t make out if he was still asleep or awake, because _god_ it felt like a dream. With a shaking hand he dragged down the covers and let out a groan, voice heavy and husky with want and remnants of sleep. Fushimi looked up, his mouth doing incredible things and making Munakata grip his shoulder tighter. With one long lick he pulled away, tucked away strands of disobedient hair behind his ear and smiled smugly at his dishevelled King, ‘Good morning, _your Majesty’_ he teased, fingers wrapping around the length of Munakata’s cock and bringing his hand down. _Mmmmhhm_ was the best Reisi could make himself say, all words dying out in his throat because _fucking hell_ Fushimi's gorgeous lips were wrapped around his cock again and his mouth working wonders, making him see stars before his eyes. “Come here” he rasped in-between labored breaths and gently pulled Fushimi up by the elbow. A bit gingerly he sat up, straddling his King's hips; both completely naked and taking each other in.

 

Munakata could not tear his eyes away from Fushimi, even a blink would be too long of absence. The sun was playing in his hair and dancing on his skin, he seemed luminous - _heavenly_ \- so…

“Beautiful,” the thought spilled his lips and he did not regret it, just reached up to cup Fushimi's face and allow his feelings freedom they deserved.

 

_Heartbeat._

 

“I love you, Saruhiko.”

Fushimi felt a knot forming in his throat, his eyes stung as he looked down at Munakata, the words spoken finally reaching his core.

“Don’t-“ he cut off, covered the sob threatening to escape his lips with his hand and shook his head. It was not a denial, he just couldn't, too much honesty and care and _love_ in those purple eyes that were looking at him, _seeing_ him.

Munakata smiled knowingly and gently pulled Fushimi to lie beside him, covering both their bodies under the sheet. Fushimi finally let his hand drop and found his voice, “You really mean that?” There was no trace of his usual sarcastic attitude, there was no point in putting up that facade, not anymore. He found his answer in warm, sure hands wrapping around him, in lips moving against his, an unspoken _yes_ and a promise of something even more breathtaking to come.

 


End file.
